


After the Demogorgon...s

by kupopopoyo



Series: Barb Lives! Shenanigans *Jazz Hands* [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Justice for Barbara "Barb" Holland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kupopopoyo/pseuds/kupopopoyo
Summary: Character-centric filler pieces in my story where Barb lives before tackling season 2!Updates weekly
Series: Barb Lives! Shenanigans *Jazz Hands* [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167509
Kudos: 2





	1. The First Night

**After midnight November 13th**

“Oh my god,” Barb whispered, hitting the brakes hard. Jonathan pulled ahead of her Cabriolet before his Ford came to a gentler stop.  


“What the hell happened here?” Steve wondered as they took in the field of vans, police cars, and ambulances filling the high school parking lot.  


“Mike! Mike, Barb!” Nancy began to panic in earnest.  


Barb hit the pedal again, but officers manning a blockade were quick to get in front of the car and signal for her to stop. Grudgingly, Barb did so with a growl of frustration.  


Barb tried to get out, but an officer already closed in on her driver’s door and signaled, yelling through the glass to pull aside. Barb was tempted to ignore him, but Nancy launching herself out of the car, only to be swarmed by officers, made her acquiesce.  


The officers that took them in for custody pulled them away from other rubber-neckers, eyeing their ragged clothes, odd bruises and wounds, and demanded their guns. Nancy, and in short order Barb, began arguing them at the top of her lungs demanding to know what happened to Mike when the officer detaining them turned back. Powell stepped around him to give the teens an up and down that instantly silenced them. He raised an eyebrow but murmured to the officer in the sudden silence to “let them in.”  


He pulled aside the officer, talking to him in a low voice that kept them from eavesdropping, but twitched his fingers at the teens to get in and pointed their gazes to the back of an ambulance where Flo and Callahan sat with the kids in a silent row.  


“Mike!” Nancy cried out with heartfelt relief as she ran at her little brother and pulled him into a hug.  


Callahan whistled. “What the hell happened to you lot? Ouch,” he hissed as Flo cinched the fresh bindings on his arm tighter.  


“Demogorgon,” Barb whispered softly. “We killed it.”  


“That was some disappearing act you pulled,” Flo was drily saying at the same time, before her head snapped up again. “What?” She said, echoing Dustin and Callahan’s own confused question.  


“We killed it,” Barb repeated simply, feeling freer than she had all week knowing that the Demogorgon’s corpse was burning in the pyre that was once Steve’s house.  


Steve jostled Jonathan’s side, all friendly. “We even got a picture. Didn’t come back till we were sure the body was burned.” The other boy held up the camera around his neck with a tight, humorless smirk.  


Callahan and Flo traded troubled looks as Lucas sighed, “No you didn’t, El killed the Demogorgon, we saw it right here!”  


“Yeah,” Dustin chimed in, “There was this flash of light and they were both gone.”  


“Oh Mike, she’s gone?” Nancy whispered sadly. Then her brain caught up. “What do you mean she killed the Demogorgon, we blew it up!”  


“I’m sorry, you what now?” Flo sat down hard and boggled at them as Barb raised a finger to her temple.  


“Blew what up?” Powell strolled up from behind them. “Steve! You blew up your house? Is that why it’s on fire?” Callahan spluttered and the kids all watched the teen boy in curious shock.  


“It’s on fire,” Steve said measuredly, trying to comprehend what was going on, “because we dropped the roof on the Demogorgon and burned the body to make sure it was dead.”  


“We watched it with our own eyes,” Barb added, not liking where this conversation was going and the confused looks the adults were sharing.  


“But we saw El disappear with the Demogorgon,” Dustin argued, just as fiercely confused. “And she’s not with you, so you couldn’t have killed the Demogorgon.”  


“Excuse me?” Barb asked, rage coolly simmering on her skin as she fixed Dustin with a fierce look that, for once, failed to dissuade the boy and they entered an impromptu staring match of wills.  


“It’s true though,” Powell’s voice was miserable. “El and the Demogorgon vanished an hour ago. Once this circus appeared, we’ve been here since.”  


Barb chewed on a nail, as Steve stepped forward, “But…we killed the Demogorgon an hour ago.” His jubilant glee was ashen. “This...this doesn’t make any sense.”  


Brain in overdrive, Nancy knew that this was impossible, leaving only the improbable. “Unless there were two,” Nancy pointed out, feeling faint. “And if there were two Demogorgons…”  


“Where’s my mom?” Jonathan snapped, eyes blazing.  


Powell and Flo exchanged worried glances. “Hopper hasn’t – “  


“Excuse me.” The group turned on a federal agent who meekly stepped forward. Powell turned on him with a fierce look that caught the man off guard. “Uhm…Police Chief Hopper said he requests your presence at Hawkins General Hospital.”  


Jonathan bolted first, straight through the barricade and for his car. The other teens followed quickly. Barb lingered long enough to throw her keys at Flo while Steve caught up to grab onto Jonathan and Nancy talked him down fast. They got him to cooperate eventually, but it was with Steve at the driver’s seat of the Ford as Powell and Nancy got in the back with Jonathan sandwiched between them.  


“Right,” said Barb stiffly as she buckled herself into the passenger’s seat. “Hospital, Steve.” She felt…weird. Floaty and loose as if this was all a waking dream.  


“You better step on it,” Nancy warned, concern at the stony expression on Jonathan’s face.

When they stepped into the lobby, another agent intercepted Jonathan on the way to the front desk and handed him a piece of paper, speaking just at a whisper. Jonathan’s snapped to attention at the agent’s quiet words and then turned, mechanically for the elevator. When doing so revealed the rest of them, the agent sighed and waved them on to follow Jonathan, holding back the irate receptionist who sat down again with a huff.  


One look at Jonathan tightlipped and eyes filling with tears kept Flo, not ungently, hushing Dustin’s questions. When they unloaded out of the elevator, Hopper, was stepping out of a room not far away. He saw them, raised a finger to his lips with a wince, and said, “Jonathan only for now.” No one argued, or rather no one was willing to as he let Jonathan pass by without so much as a nod. Hopper’s right arm was in a sling, gauze wrapped around his head and more peeked out from the ragged remnants of his uniform jacket. He looked a mess.  


Instead, the group meekly waited as he took an orderly aside and the man guided them to a small break room. There, the man went to a closet and came out with extra gauze and disinfectant with a meaningful look for the battle-worn teenagers before closing the door quietly behind the odd group.  


“What happened to you? Is Joyce still alive?” Powell asked point blank. Flo itched to check on Hop, but he looked cleaned up all things considered. There wasn’t much else she could do. Instead she occupied herself with cutting strip of gauze as she distracted herself with thoughts of cleaning the scabbing cut on Barb’s brow.  


“What? Oh, yeah, no. Joyce is fine. We, uhm, we found Will Byers,” Hopper announced gruffly.  


As would have been expected, everyone started asking questions, and it took Powell, banging on the table and bellowing “QUIET!” to regain some level of calm.  


“He’s alive. Recovering. Joyce and now Jonathan’s with him. He woke up when we found him, but he needs rest now.” He held up a hand and managed to catch Dustin by the sleeve with a pained grunt when the boy tried to run back out the door. “No. Family only right now. Give them a moment.” Dustin pouted but nodded as he sat back down with the others. Hopper’s eyes were on Powell as he commanded, “What’ve you got to report?”  


Powell took a breath, trying to find the best way to say this. “Well, we got one. Maybe two? Demogorgons down.” He trailed off, waiting for the Chief’s reaction.  


Hopper blinked, but didn’t look quite as surprised at this news as the others expected, just nodding a little. “Two of them? Would explain how so many people went missing.”  


“Wait, you knew?” Callahan spluttered, outrage warring with shock.  


Hopper just shook his head. “It was…well…” he fell silent and stared at his hands flat on the table.  


“Chief Hopper?” Barb asked, concerned.  


The man sniffled, and then dabbed at his eyes. “That other place…the uhm…downside.  


“Upside Down.” Dustin corrected. Flo glared at him, but Hopper just nodded.  


“The Upside Down. There’s…a lot in there.”  


He began recounting how he and Joyce stepped through to the other side. The strange eggs they found that brought to mind memories to the teenagers of their own visit to the Upside Down. “There were things there. More of them. More Demogorgons,” Hopper admitted at last. The others took a deep breath at once. “I don’t know how many. But we passed at least three. They were fighting these…things. At the library. Only reason we were able to get Will in and out.” He took a breath. “Problem is, the…things they were fighting…” He trailed off.  


Powell was the one to break the tense silence. “Chief. What were they fighting?”  


Hopper came to with a start. “Right. Best I can say is.” He sighed, opened and closed his mouth a few times then shook his head. “This is going to sound crazy. They were these giant eyeball face things. ” Barb noticed Dustin lean in, not liking the fascinated glitter in those eyes. “The legs were clawed, sharp,” he waved at himself “that’s what cut me up. Problem wasn’t the claws. It was…when you look at its eye.”  


“Beholder,” Dustin whispered, excited.  


Barb cuffed the boy as Powell and Flo sighed. “This isn’t a game Dustin,” the young woman snapped, her patience well worn out.  


“Sorry.” For once the boy immediately apologized and spread his fingers at Hopper as if to say the stage was his again.  


The Chief did not look happy about it. “It made me – us, see things. Horrible things.” He licked his lips. “Joyce was the one who saved us. Broke the things hold on her and ran it right through. Took a while to get me out of it. We found Will…and.” He sighed. “The other bodies behind them. All the others looked…well…eaten…” Hopper admitted softly.  


Everyone jumped as Steve pushed back his chair with a shriek of metal and went straight out the door. Nancy got up to follow with Barb only a step behind.  


Powell glanced around the room, then got to his feet. “Chief, let’s take five.” Hopper nodded, still staring at his hands as the kids broke out in whispers just before the door closed behind Powell. He didn’t have to go far to see Barb and Nancy outside the men’s room. Barb looked torn between running in there and patting Nancy on the back. The other girl looked green and queasy as she hugged herself. Then Barb looked down the hall and waved Powell over. “I’m guessing he’s in there?” She nodded to him and Powell sighed.  


Inside, there was only one stall closed, and not hearing or seeing anything but sniffling, Powell went up and tapped the stall door with a knuckle. “Steve.” There was no answer, he didn’t expect one. What do you say after the bomb Hopper dropped on them? I’m sorry your childhood friend got munched by a Demogorgon?  


“Steve, you’re not alone here. Everyone’s here for you.” After another long silence he added, “It’s alright to cry son. You take your time. You did good tonight son, I hope you know that. Above and beyond the call of duty.” With no further response, he added lamely, “You’re a good friend.”  


Powell left it at that and had just leaned up against the wall to wait Steve out or if the boy needed anything when the door opened. Steve came out, still a teary red-eyed mess and then grabbed him into a hug, burying his face in Powell’s chest. “Uhm, there, there kid.” Powell tried to remember how his sister might handle this kind of situation as she mechanically patted Steve’s back. “It’s going to be ok.” Steve didn’t respond, but he did cling tighter, tear’s still streaming down his face as he squeezed his eyes shut tight and just shook.

With Nancy and Barb on either side, Steve resolutely returned to the room a while after Powell went back.  


“So they made you see dead things?” Dustin was asking, wonder in his voice again. “Ow!”  


“Give it a rest already Dustin.” Lucas mumbled. His eyes flicked to the still silent Mike and Dustin shut up.  


Hopper looked away to Steve, seemingly glad for any distraction from Dustin. “You ok, kid?”  


Steve looked far from it, but with his hands tightening around Barb and Nancy’s he nodded. His caught Powell’s gaze as the older man sat down and said “Getting there.”  


Hopper nodded. “It takes time. When you lose people. Sometimes you never get over it.” Softer, he added, “That’s ok, kid. One day at a time. And none of the macho bullshit. Ask or talk to us if you need it.” More bleakly he met Steve’s eyes. “Don’t end up like me,” he warned.  


No one quite expected that, but Steve took it in stride and nodded. “You too Chief.”  


Hopper looked down. At last he cleared his throat. “So uh…where’s El now? The agents get her?”  


Any calm in the room immediately fled. Everyone glancing to one another around Hopper’s confused looks to see who would try and explain.  
Powell sighed, “So it’s like this…”

At some point, Steve took Dustin’s backpack, disappeared and then came back with it filled with what had to be nearly an entire vending machine’s contents. Hopper noticed the boy’s vanishing act line up with the point that it was Nancy and Barb’s turn to recount the teen’s night, but kept that to himself. Mike was miserably huddled under Nancy’s jacket and dozing next to her. Dustin, the little hellion, was following everyone’s story, recording it in some notebook, even asking follow up questions that, more often than not, asked precise details that few people thought hard to enough to remember. Not even the temptation of snacks kept Dustin from his notetaking despite the hour. He did take several candy bars though. Even now, he bit into one, holding it with his teeth as he scribbled notes about Barb’s account of using a propane tank to blow up the Harrington residence.  


“And that’s how we killed our Demogorgon,” Barb said softly. “Sorry, no magical lightshow.” Hopper snorted amusement at least.  


Dustin finished scribbling something, then jumped to his feet. “Bathroom,” he squeaked, “I’ve been holding it for the last hour.”  


Flo huffed with her eyes closed, a sign that she hadn’t nodded off quote yet. She may had been getting older on in her years, but after a lifetime of unpredictable shifts and caring for a disabled husband’s adjustment pains, she still had enough spirit in her to say to him, “You didn’t actually have to tell us that,” in her most matronly manner.  


When the door slipped close. Silence fell, like sleep upon Callahan who rested his head on Powell’s shoulder. The older officer was doing his best to work the kinks out of his neck without disrupting his wounded partner’s rest. With Nancy dozing into Steve’s side now, it seemed that they were about to call it a night.  


Barb was reaching for a bottle of water when Steve’s question gave her pause. “Hey Chief? What did that eyeball thingy make you see?” Flo’s eyes popped open and Powel shot the boy a warning glare. When Hopper turned to Steve, the older boy added, “You said a lot of weird stuff tonight. If there’s more of those eyeballs out there like the Demogorgon’s, I want to be prepared.”  


Hopper turned his fierce gaze on Steve, but the boy just returned it evenly so Hopper was the one to give in. “…it showed me some of the worst moments of my life, no. Nightmares.”  


“So it made you fall asleep?”  


“Not…exactly. Didn’t feel like a dream, but…I guess they weren’t memories. Realistic shit, I’ll tell you that. Movie special effects got nothing on it.”  


“So, what did you see?”  


Powell glanced at Hopper watching for a sign to tell Steve to back off. Hopper only got this shaken up over one thing these days. After a day like this, Powell was sure he could talk Steve out of this, but Hopper nodded slowly. “I guess, if you saw it, maybe you’d see Carol.” Steve tensed as Hopper glanced down at the long-since drained cup of coffee the boy had brought him. “It showed me my dead daughter Sarah. And all sorts of horrible things that could have happened to her. And all I could do was watch.”  


Powell closed his eyes, and slumped, whispering apologies to the jostled Callahan. Somewhere to his left, he heard Flo recite another prayer under her breath. After a moment, Steve sucked in air like he just remembered to breath and said softly, “Oh.” For a moment, there was nothing but the ambience of people sleeping and the muffled call of a request on the intercoms from the other side of the door. Finally Steve asked, “It’s not over yet, is it?”


	2. The First Day After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of work back at the police station.

**Saturday November 13th**

Callahan was tired. First thing that morning, when he, Powell, and Hopper went out of the hospital, a license-less car drove up alongside them, opening its door. When Powell tried to follow a resigned Hopper inside, the agent made him, in no uncertain terms, unwelcome. Callahan ended up following Powell, ignoring the older man’s increasingly blunt suggestions that he should take the day off.  


After the incident last night, the order to kill them all by that woman agent left Phil unnerved and more paranoid than ever. It was one thing to expect that kind of callous lawlessness – hearing it with his own ears as the threat to his life unfolded and spiraled out of control was something else entirely.  


“Penny for your thought,” Powell rumbled as they pulled into the police station.  


“You’re a workaholic,” Callahan shot back, the painful aches in his limbs making the joking words curt. He would not give Powell the satisfaction of “I told you so,” so he forced himself at a hobble to keep up as Powell lightly slapped his elbow.  


“I thought you didn’t do the macho stuff,” Powell’s voice was low.  


Callahan paused. It wasn’t often that Powell called him out at the station. “Just copying you oh fearless leader,” he winked, hoping that took away from the perspiration already shining at his temples.  


Powell gave him a look. It wasn’t quite scolding, but it wasn’t a gentle reproach. At the door, they parted for one of the last night patrolmen signing out. “Crazy night, eh?” the man muttered as Powell painted a small smile on his face. Callahan saw it didn’t reach his partner’s eyes letting the man pass with a small bob.  


“You care too much about manners,” Callahan told him once the other officer was out of earshot, “You’re deputy chief now, Powell. Only Hopper outranks you.”  


Powell still double checked no one was around and kept voice low as he reminded Callahan, “Not in Hawkins, Indiana.” He swept by Callahan in the same breath, not willing to argue further and the younger man let the argument drop.  


The station was a mess. Half filled paperwork littered every surface along with the station’s sparse few supplies for handling anything more unruly than domestic abuse. To say the disappearances and the showdown at the high school caught the Hawkins PD off guard was a massive understatement. And without the Chief, Powell, or even Flo there to manage things, a small mountain of paperwork had formed on Powell’s desk. With Hopper off the grid the last few days, Powell had to bear the brunt of that work and he took only one look at the mess before turning right around and going to set a fresh pot of coffee to brew. Callahan plucked one sheet off the pile and cringed. All-too-often, the other officers got in the habit of half-assing their paperwork when they knew Powell had to handle it. It wasn’t to say that Hopper got their best work, but Powell practically had to rewrite the reports for the other officers when they landed on his desk.  


Callahan turned to see Powell brace himself on the counter, drooping his head with a sigh as he scratched his head. Without a word, Callahan picked up a good chunk of the paperwork, carried it back to his desk, and scrounged for a pen.

By noon, Callahan and Powell were joined by Flo, and Flo alone. They worked quietly. There was a lot of paper work and, after last night, it seemed to be settled by unspoken agreement that keeping the sensitive bits out of the other’s officers’ hair would work for the best. After long years of relative peace and calm, the other officers were on edge and complaining, not used to pointed questions and angry complaints about missing persons cases that went nowhere. Flexing his fingers, Callahan was annoyed to find a blister developing and threw his pen down with a sigh. “Did we really pull in everyone to lock down the scene last night?”  


Powell paused midway in his writing and glanced around the practically empty room. “Had to fill in the night shift somehow. No way just Jeffers and Limburgh were going to be enough.”  


Flo grunted sympathetically. “So what are we going to tell them once things settle?”  


Callahan looked up as Powell tapped at the side of his head with a pen. Hawkins had gained a reputation for being one of the state’s softer posts. There was a reason Callahan, Powell, and Flo were willing to give Hopper the benefit of the doubt and work under him instead of their more unctuous, ambitious coworkers. They would need a good cover story for the last week.  


“Let’s hope Hopper and those suits that picked him up can come up with a plan,” the older officer sighed. He set aside the file for the other high school student among the victims. Thankfully, no children aside from Will had been taken. The vast majority were adults. Even so, Powell would dread speaking to Dr. Perkins and the Thompsons in particular after all this.  


After a moment, Flo sighed. “What’s wrong Phil? Need something to do?” she asked piercingly. “Come help me with these overtime forms.” She rubbed at her forehead as Callahan ducked his head. Coffee could only do so much after last night. The four or five hours of rest she squeezed in between checking on her husband and filling him in on the absolute shitshow that unfolded yesterday was not nearly enough for the last week. Flo was twenty years too old for that kind of strain and she felt it now as her body totaled up pains and aches with her throbbing joints. 

Gallantly, she finished one last sheet. “Alright. Please tell me you boys want some lunch because I am very much done with paperwork for now.”  


“Please” Callahan said and, outnumbered, Powell set his pen down and stood with a groan.  


Flo had just called in for a sandwich delivery when the door opened.  


“Grub’s here? Already?” Callahan looked up from the puzzle he swiped off another officer’s desk. “Talk about fast delivery!”  


Hopper rounded the corner and poked his head into the room, bags under his eyes pronounced. “Anyone else here?”  


“Chief!” “Hop!”  


They shuffled into his office, patiently waiting for Hopper to go over the lights and the hidden spots. Satisfied his office, at least, was clean, Hopper sat down in his chair with a heavy sigh.  


“So…the Department of Energy is going to be coming forward to work with us as long as we keep the down low on the demiglazed thing this past week.”  


Flo nodded along as he spoke, but Callahan’s mouth quirked. “Have you eaten anything since yesterday Chief?”  


Hopper fixed him with unimpressed, reddened eyes. “You can get me a coffee now Callahan.”  


By the time Callahan went to fetch the lunch delivery at the front door, they had already come to an understanding of the arrangements. Hopper would stick close to the Byers and do his best to supervise the lab in case they tried anything more suspicious with the proposed check ups on Will Byers. Powell and Callahan’s patrols would be widened and they would get in periodic touch with pest control and state troopers. Nobody was happy about that, given O’Bannon’s involvement with the Byers case, but everyone agreed they needed every edge they could get with how the Demogorgons could freely surface anywhere they choose. The way it came out of the wall at the high school last night still unnerved the three who had seen it blast through plaster and concrete. At the moment, Flo had too much paperwork to get through, but she agreed to put together something on the kids, young and teens alike, to keep an eye on them. She would be starting with the Harrison kid seeing as someone was going to have to call his parents and make an official report to them. Then Hopper dumped the box he dragged in with him on the desk and looked them all in the eyes wearily.  


Officially Hawkins Police did not know what caused nearly 14 people to disappear over the last week of November. Records would be sealed and handed over to the feds who would be visiting each of the affected families to negotiate compensation and silence. Unofficially, officers outside of Hopper would have to refer anything involving the lab to the Chief who would be the only one authorized to negotiate with the lab. Powell and Callahan were given special dispensation to assist Hopper with securing anti disclosure forms and charged with enforcing them over all the civilians involved last night, of which Flo would be one. They spent their lunch break over copies of their own agreements, each of which was a pile larger than could be fit in any one folder.  


Callahan handed over his own lunch to Hopper after skimming through his agreement the first time. The level of secrecy and deceit they would be agreeing to be complicit to was mind boggling. The fact that his had an exoneration for the death of a federal agent with the name blacked out drove away his appetite pretty quickly and, in short order, he stepped out of the office for a spell.  


Powell watched him go, concerned as Flo and Hopper conferred about what to do with her husband, whose lack of papers seemed conspicuous. After a moment, he excused himself and followed the sound of retching from the bathroom.  


He was really starting to hate spending time in bathrooms.  


After the sound of flushing, Callahan emerged from a stall, pale and sweating. He stumbled as he caught sight of Powell with a muttered, “Jesus.”  


“You ok, kid?”  


That earned him the evil eye from the younger cop bent over the sink to wash his hands. After gargling and spitting, Callahan took a breath. He was trying to dispel the afterimage of the grim rosette of blood and gore that his bullet had made of the federal agent’s head back at the junkyard. “Yup.” His bile-sore throat made his voice harsh as a crow’s. “Just another day on the force.”


	3. The First Week After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week after the Demogorgon's from Barb's point of view

**Monday September 14th**

“So…there’s no school today.”  


Barb blinked, torn out of distracted thoughts as she stared at her father. He usually left a good bit before she did as his office was a further drive to the other side of town. Usually he would have his meal, kiss her mother and then be out the door before 7:30. She could set her watch to how consistent he was. Barb felt herself tense, sharp awareness settling in with fear that her parents were on to her. She sat on pins and needles as her father set aside his breakfast plate and her mother slipped into her chair so they both faced her.  


“Barb,” her mother began. Then she faltered, looking down until her father placed his hand on hers.  


“We’ve been very worried about you these last few days,” he began slowly, as if she would spook and run.  


Barb steadied her resolve and swallowed a snort. It wasn’t easy leaving the others and trying to remember the person she had been before the Demogorgon attacked. “I’m sorry,” she opted for the apology, trying to make it sound sincere and forcing herself to look her father in the eye.  


He looked away first.  


“I understand that tensions have been high. Especially with Nancy and that…new boyfriend of hers.” Her father was testing the waters, and, as she nodded, he pushed on. “Given the exceptional circumstances, your mother and I agree that putting the past few days behind us would be better for everyone. No need to make people talk.”  
Barb blinked, swallowing the urge to laugh as she realized that, once again, her parents were more concerned with their image as the Hallmark perfect midwestern family than the lethal mystery that claimed fourteen lives the last week.  


“We’ll forget this ever happened,” her father continued, blissfully ignorant to the thoughts storming in Barb’s mind. “But we want you to come to us next time there’s any trouble.”  


“We don’t want you to end up like Nancy,” her mother sighed. “Such a sweet girl, what happened?”  


Barb thought of the way Nancy had faced down the Demogorgon with a gun in either hand and a peace settled over her. “Mike was upset about Will,” she found herself saying. “Nancy didn’t know what to do with herself and she needed to get away from home for a bit.”  


From the way her parents traded looks, she knew what they were thinking. It wasn’t a big secret that Ted and Karen Wheeler’s relationship was tepid at best. Her parents certainly liked to gossip and tsk about it when they thought she and Nancy weren’t listening and of course that’s what they would fixate on. Barb was glad she was proving to be far subtler than either of them. Pretending to not notice that exchange, she pressed on, “I wasn’t thinking right last time I came home, but I’m sorry for making you worry…really.”  


Her mother let out a rattling breath and nodded. “Oh, Barb. You’re alive, that’s all that matters.”  


“Oh,” Barb did feel a little smaller at that. “You heard about Carol?”  


“And the other girl,” her father sighed. Seeing her face, he nodded. “You hadn’t heard? Two girls at your school are missing.” Barb’s mouth formed an "O" as her thoughts raced. 

“School’s been cancelled for today. I’ve got work, but Barb? You’ll talk to us right? If you need something?” Barb nodded, feeling unsteady as she tried to think of who else could have gone missing. Ally?  


“Of course, Dad,” she answered as her father waited for a response. He frowned slightly, but nodded as he hefted himself out of his seat. “Well, your mother will be here if you need to talk about anything Barb.”  


“Anything,” her mother repeated with more force than Barb had heard in sometime. Finally, the older woman looked up. “You gave us a scare Barbie girl. Let’s not fight like that ever again.”  


The long-unused nickname caught her off guard. And the fear and concern in her mother’s eyes were real. Barb really did scare them something fierce when she disappeared last week, didn’t she?  


…how would they have handled it if she had been the one to go missing?  


Once her father left, Barb took her time with breakfast, trying to ignore how mother kept peeking out from the kitchen to watch her like Barb would vanish into thin air. It wasn’t until she was about to go back to her room, that she remembered. Bringing the plate to the kitchen, she asked her mother to use the kitchen for a moment, then left carrying a stacked plate to her room.

**Tuesday September 15th**  


Barb switched the TV off and got up. “Mom,” she called out. It was getting easier, pretending to be a normal girl and keeping her secrets under wraps. The fact that her parents were keeping their distance helped.  


“Still closed?” her mother called back from the kitchen.  


“Yup.” Barb called Hopper last night and he had told her that school would be shut down for a few days. Apparently, the agents wanted to study the hole the Demogorgon came through. “I’m calling Nancy!”.  


“Okay honey, just finish before eleven so I can call Mrs. Lovell! I need to know when the bridge group is meeting this tomorrow!”  


Barb grabbed the telephone from the hall, making sure the line didn’t catch on anything as she dragged it into her room. They were making cordless phones these days, didn’t that sound nice? Nicer than making sure the phone didn’t catch on the bureau outside her door as she rang the number and closed the door. “Hey Chief? Any good news?” she rapped a knuckle on her closet door then froze. “Wait, he can’t stay with them anymore? Why not?”

Barb almost missed the sound of her mother coming down the hall over her music and slammed the closet door shut. “Barb? You ok?” her mother asked, the sound of it drawing her into the room in a hurry.  


“Yup. Is it time for dinner?”  


After a moment, she nodded, “Your father’s on the way. Can you set the table?”  


Barb quickly stood, “Of course.”  


Her father was in a good mood as her mother set out plates of lasagna and placed a beer on the table in front of him with a kiss. “- I tell her, sure. We can get some contractors out to inspect the wall and get some repairs done. After she hangs up though, some inspector from the national government calls in and says they want to cover the project. Can you imagine?”  


“Sounds like a lucky break,” her mother hummed as she sat down. Barb sweat, trying to gather her thoughts.  


“A really lucky one, given she’s the only one for those two boys.”  


Her mother nodded and looked to Barb expectantly. Falling back into the rhythms of their life, Barb took her turn to say grace. The lasagna was good, one of her favorites normally, but the noodles felt like greasy cardboard as she swallowed. At last, talk of her father’s work lulled. Barb set down her fork and cleared her throat.  


“Hey, uhm dad?”  


“Yes Barb honey?”  


“Are there any places in town that, uhm…do you still do skeet shooting?”  


Her mother’s fork scraped along her plate as she looked from Barb to her father and back.  


He set his own silverware down. “Not lately honey. Why? No one’s been giving you any problems have they?” his eyes glittered.  


In the end, she half-shrugged. “Not really, but after the last few days…I’ve started to think that…whatever happened to those girls at school. I don’t want it to happen to me.” She looked down at her plate, not trusting herself to hold up a good enough poker face to throw her parents off.  


After a moment, she peeked up to see her father and mother throwing each other glances, ending as her mother nodded stiffly. Her father leaned in. “Barb. Let me be clear. Are you asking me to teach you how to use guns?”  


The moment of truth, Barb nodded, silent.  


Her mother looked down at her lap, sitting like she was wringing her hands under the table. “It’s not very ladylike at all,” she whispered to the silent dining table. Her father shifted in his seat, but she continued, “But, I’d hate to think of you hurt more. Earl? Surely you know someone who can teach her?”  


Her father clamped his mouth shut and sat back, looking surprised. Then he nodded. “I could. The Harris’s say there’s a girl on the skeet team in Terra Haute. It’d be perfectly safe with me there, Marsha.” Her father was excited, Barb realized. He spent a lot of time reminiscing about his time shooting and hunting, it stood to reason.  


The trick was her mother, but she was already nodding along to her father’s words. “Anything that’ll keep her safe,” she conceded unhappily.  


Her father turned back, an excited smile that faded a bit as he saw the serious, tense expression on Barb’s face. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry Barb, I’ll teach you. Nothings going to get you like those girls on my watch.”  


Barb forced a small smile on her face as her father picked up his fork, only to get sidetracked outlining what they’d need to get Barb a license for a handgun by the time she qualified at eighteen. Her mother didn’t cluck about it like she usually did when he talked guns around Barb. Instead, she hung on to his words with a rapt attention and focus she normally reserved for other ladies’ fashions at church event sales.  


That had gone rather well, surprisingly. Barb took a breath and readied herself. “There’s one more thing, a friend of mine lost his house. Do you think, he could stay with us here for a bit?”  


“He?” Her mother and father both leaned forward, looking ready to pounce.  


“Since when did you get a boyfriend?” her father gave her a suspicious look.  


“Uhm,” Barb tried to back peddle.  


Her mother’s lips were pursed in tight disdain. “Why would you even suggest such a thing?”  


“Because, mother, it’s the right thing to do.” Barb took a breath to force herself to stay calm and not invite fresh criticism over her tone. She composed herself, only letting the clenching of her hands tighter under the table betray her façade. “Steve lost everything in that fire, and his parents won’t be home for at least another day.”  


“Steve? Steve Harrington?” The table rattled slightly as her mother sat up straight. “That boy Nancy was seeing? And why would it be any concern of ours what happens to that hooligan?”  


Her father’s mustache quivered, unimpressed. “Best we can tell, he blew his house up himself.”  


“And then there’s that missing girl that always hung around him,” Barb’s mother added quickly, breathlessly. “Still haven’t found her and it’s been nearly a week. Something’s not right there.”  


Barb took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Which is why we should be helping Steve out in this time of need. He’s hurt and still missing his friend. Then he loses everything in a fire. He needs us to step up and show him support as right proper Christians should.” God, Barb could hardly believe the day had come where she was trotting out the platitudes to her parents. Before she came down, Barb had practiced the lines in a mirror over and over, repeating the lie of omission to herself until she could look her reflection in the eye and tell it convincingly.  


**Wednesday November 16th**

“Meatloaf is in the fridge for lunch! I’ll be back before dinner. I also bought more Eggos since you’ve been eating so many of them lately.”  


“Thanks mom,” Barb called as brightly as she could. Then the front door slammed shut and she waited at the door to her room until she heard her mother borrow the Cabriolet and head out of the driveway. Then she made a beeline for the phone to make the call.  


Half an hour later, the truck pulled up to her driveway. Barb had the door open before Hopper could even knock. “Chief. Steve!” Barb leapt out to grab the lanky boy in a hug. “How are you?”  


“Eeeehhh,” he wavered, but hugged Barb back just as eagerly all the same. “…kinda miss Nancy.”  


Hopper hovered at the edge of their vision, so Barb nodded at him and jerked her head back. “My room. Left and the third door on the left.” To Steve, she asked, “Did something happen at Nancy’s?” as she led him to the living room.  


“Not really? Just, her mom and dad weren’t a fan of me staying in Nancy’s room.”  


“But they kicked you out!” Barb sighed, “You’re not mad about that?”  


The boy just shrugged. “Don’t really blame ‘em. And Hop said he’s got a place in the woods I can stay at for a bit.”  


Barb glanced at the backpack he wore. “Did you manage to get anything after the fire?” her voice soft.  


Steve just shook his head. It was weird seeing him without the coif. His bangs were just long enough to get in his eyes that he kept trying to brush them aside. After losing his house, she wasn't surprised that this was down the ladder of priorities. It was just sad in a way she wished she were more helpful. “Nah. Just the stuff I grabbed when we ran for it the first time.”  


Barb nodded and a lull fell over them. In it, she gathered herself enough to say, “Sorry Steve.” At the curious look he sent her, she pointed out, “It was my idea to blow up the propane tank.”  


His brow furrowed and then he waved her comment off. “It killed the Demogorgon, that’s what matters.”  


“Still, it’s gotta suck losing everything like that,” she whispered. She blinked as Steve snorted.  


“Yeah, no I got everything important out the first time. Most of it,” Steve told her. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he zipped open the bag and rummaged through for something. “You think I’d leave Mr. Bearington Harrington where the Demogorgon could get him?”  


“Mr. who now?” Barb shook with laughter as she reached out and gently took the aged stuffed bear. “I never pegged you for a stuffed animal kind of boy, Steve.”  


He gave her an amused look. “Uhm, don’t you remember how I asked Nance out?”  


She blinked and then recalled the stuffed bat from the school’s Halloween raffle. “Now you’ve told me your weakness Mr. Harrington, you’ll never live it down.”  


He just smiled at her and took Mr. Bearing Harrington back. “It was nice at Nancy’s, though. You know, with her parents being so nice and worried about her.”  


Barb blinked. “Say what now, Steve? Are we talking about the same Karen and Ted Wheeler I’m thinking about?”  


“Uhm,” he sighed and looked away.  


Sensing she stepped on a landmine, she changed the topic. “I tried asking my parents to let you stay.”  


Steve gave her a warm smile at that. “Yeah, thanks. Hop told me.”  


“Sorry, I couldn’t convince them,” Barb sighed. She thought if they were willing to let her take up gun practice, Steve might have had a shot.  


“It’s fine, Barb. Thanks for trying though.”  


After a moment, she added, “Did you just call the chief ‘Hop?’”  


“All the cops at the station called him that and he didn’t seem to mind…”  


She glanced at the backpack and shook her head. “All of this is making me think of Hopper like a stuffed bear too.”  


Steve chuckled. “Please say it to his face. I want to see his look.”  


“Barb?” Hopper’s voice drifted out from the back. “A little help?”  


Barb gave Steve a look and got up. “Duty calls,” she said as he nodded and followed.

**Thursday November 17th**

"Excuse me, is Chief Hopper here?” A head flew up from a desk and Barb blinked. “Uhm, Cal-Calhoun?”  


“Callahan,” the officer corrected with a yawn. No one else was in the office, but Flo had told her it was fine to just come in after school. He leered at her, “Now, what’s a pretty - oh. No one’s here?” He looked around and Barb shook her head. “You’re the Holland girl right?” His tone of voice completely different.  


Baffled, she nodded nonetheless, “Barb.” After a moment she added, “You look better. You know. Than the other day.”  


He made a face. “Bullet wounds suck. And I’m so tired,” he mumbled. “But if anyone asks, never shot nothing last weekend, ok?”  


Barb thought back to the stack of paperwork Hopper left on her desk the day before and nodded. Reading it was dull, tedious work that made her eyeballs dance, but she was going to force herself through as much of it as she could. For the matter at hand, she asked, “Is Flo here?”  


“Probably. Off in the back or something,” Callahan started to get to his feet, before his bad leg buckled and he caught himself on the desk with a “whoops.”  


“Uhm, is there anything I can do…” Barb began only for him to wave it off. “Right.”  


After a moment of awkwardly staring at each other, Callahan asked, “You here for the Chief or Flo? Cause you asked for both.”  


“Either?” she hedged nervously. She wasn’t sure who else was in the know yet, and she was starting to get the feeling Hopper’s paranoia was just getting petty at this point after everything they had gone through.  


“This about his houseguest?”  


“Uh, yeah. Actually, Steve didn’t show up at school today…do you know…?”  


Callahan nodded, “My guess is that the school told him to stay at Hop’s. Doc Perkins is on the warpath you know? Trying to put a lawsuit on Steve.”  


Barb’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking,” she prompted after a moment of boggling at the man.  


Callahan winced and bounced around the small station with numb legs. At another desk, he fished out a sheaf of papers, took a look around, and then handed it to Barb.  


She flipped through the first few pages and felt a spark of anger catch. “Traumatic…damages? Suspicious behavior? This is bullshit! No one worked as hard to find Carol as Steve did!” At school, Tommy was already starting to badmouth Steve and spread rumors. Some of them included Barb, Jonathan, Nancy in some fashion or another, or all three. In a way, if she hadn’t been worried about Steve, she would have been glad he had missed the rumor mill in full swing today.  


“Easy girl, we know that. The government does too. We’re working around it.”  


Barb sighed. “It isn’t fair. He’s a victim of all this too.”  


She noticed Callahan watching her carefully, “And what are you going to do about that?”  


She crossed her arms. “If I had any sense, I’d go punch Doc Perkins in the face.” Barb hadn’t needed to be close to Carol to catch even half of all her complaining about her father at school. The man was an insensitive jerk, to say the least.  


Callahan nodded, surprisingly accommodating of her intentions of assaulting one of the most respected men in town. “Course, that’d get you in jail and then who’ll help Steve catch up on classes?”  


Barb frowned at him. “…I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not like I can actually do anything about Doc Perkins.”  


Callahan shrugged, “Maybe not with this, but no reason to give up hope. Seems to me, Steve’s lucky he’s got friends like you at his back.”  


“Uhm. Thanks?” Barb wavered, trying to figure out Callahan’s angle as he stretched and scratched at an armpit. Ew.  


“Well, I’m sure there’s something you can do to help Steve,” he said, looking drowsy already. “Don’t sell yourselves short. You kids are the most stubborn Scooby gang I ever met.” He chuckled as she sighed and rolled her eyes at the comparison, even though his words did set some gears in her mind into motion. “And here’s Flo,” he nodded to Barb’s right.  


“Barb!” The older woman put down a small stack of files on her desk. “Thanks for coming, dear!”  


“Of course, Flo.” Barb held up the bag of clothes she had been carrying in one hand. “It’s all here. I’m not sure they’ll fit…but…”  


“Oh trust, me, it’s better than anything Hop has,” the older woman snorted. “Button ups and old jeans. Like a logger! No way to dress for - ” she blinked and they both turned to Callahan.  


“Nrk?” He jerked awake and blinked at them. “Wha wazzat Flo?”  


“Phil,” she sighed, “for the last time, go home already. We’ll call you if we need anything. Just use the medical leave already.”  


Callahan didn’t seem happy, but shuffled to his desk and fished out a set of keys.  


Flo watched him go severely. “And you better eat something when you get back, don’t think I won’t check, because I will!” She sighed, to Barb, she muttered, “Big babies the lot of them,” getting a giggle out of the younger girl. “Now, let’s go get these sorted. I’ve got some other things to bring to Hop’s. Could you help me carry them to my car?”  


“Sure!”

**Sunday November 13th**

When Barb had gotten home, her mother screamed, dropping a mug and ignoring the steaming mess as she folded Barb into a sobbing, shaking hug. Her father joined them shortly after and they stood there for a long time. After trying to get some food in her, her father helped her to bed once Barb nearly fell asleep in her pasta.  


After she woke up, her mother jumped to her feet from the chair she’d placed by the door when Barb emerged. She hovered until Barb finally sent her away. “I can still shower by myself mom. I’m tired, that’s it.” Her mother would’ve hovered all night longer if her father hadn’t read the darkening storm on Barb’s face and interceded. Letting her retreat to her room and lay in the bed, Barb lay there, tired, but unable to fall asleep as the sounds of her parents going to bed faded into silence too. She just lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about what Hopper said about there being more than just Demogorgons out there.  


That night, she abruptly woke up after midnight with a note by bed from her father and, reading it, started to tear by the time she got to “above all else, stay safe.” She looked at the note a moment longer, trying to sort out the last week and her childhood of expectations, before deciding she couldn’t stay in her room a minute longer.

Barb stopped the Cabriolet just outside Nancy’s cul-de-sac. The other girl’s house was still flanked by a variety of nondescript vans and, even this late at night, people dressed in suits formed a vigilant perimeter around it. Another van was parked outside the Byer’s house and Barb’s heart stuttered until she was sure it wasn’t following her. She had to go through questioning with the others at the hospital, and that was when the government agents first warned her not to go blabbing about the Demogorgon or El to her parents. All these people with their eyes on their little band was terrifying. Anyways, odds were Jonathan and Joyce would be still be with Will at the hospital. Fresh out of friends to sneak to, Barb drove to the ruins of Steve house.  


The place had long since burned out into a desolate wreck as she pulled up. Unable to sit still, she got out the flashlight that made her think of Joyce with a pang of fondness and walked up to the front door. In the blackened mess of ashes, it was no longer possible for her to pick out what, if anything was left, could be the Demogorgon’s remains. She lingered for a moment, thinking of what to do now. Where could they, she, go with the Demogorgons, and more, still out there? A prickle ran up her arm as the paranoid thought hit her: what if there was another one here?  


Barb sighed, and got on the move again. She circled the ruins of Steve’s house, reflecting on all the time she had spent here the last week. Something colder than the night chill within her clenched as she ran through the memories. It coalesced into a mad urge to confront the mess where it started settled in her gut. With fresh purpose, she rounded the corner to the backyard and glared at Steve’s pool.  


Was. Was that…By the pool.  


Was that a body?


	4. The First Weekend After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's parents suck.

**Friday November 18th**

****

****

Flo put a cup of coffee in front of Steve, breaking his attention from his father and Hopper’s one-sided shouting match. She patted his shoulder gently. “Would you like cream or sugar with that dear?”  


“Sugar,” he croaked. Steve hadn’t spoken much this morning. “Lots of it.”  


Flo nodded and patted him again before going to fetch it.  


“ – irreplaceable records! How can you not see that?”  


Automatically, Steve raised the coffee to his lips and took a swig because there wasn’t anything else he could do. His father was starting to circle around to the start of his outrage. How his mother could stand his father when he had sides like this, Steve just couldn’t understand. Then he cringed from the bitterness of the black coffee as his father shook a folder in the police chief’s face. What was inside? Insurance papers? His mom let slip that that’s where they’d come from. First thing they did back in Hawkins after their flight was delayed from sudden heavy rain in New York, was it see their son Steve after the house burned down? Nope. It was hitting the insurer’s office the moment the doors opened.  


“It was a gas leak Mr. Harrington.” Hopper looked like he was sucking on a lemon as he repeated himself. “We followed it up, and the only people who were there were your son and his friends. They’re lucky they got out.”  


At the mention of “his friends,” Steve’s father shot him a glare. Yuuuup, the old man definitely blamed him for this, and ironically, he was completely right. Not that Steve would’ve done any different. For the hundredth time, he put the brakes on his brain before it could try to imagine what could’ve happened if they hadn’t dropped the roof on the damn Demogorgon.  


In the end, it was a hollow victory given how these things could apparently cross over any damn where they pleased. For now, Steve accepted the wadded napkin of sugar packets Flo handed off to him and began mechanically tearing them open and dumping them in his mug as he looked his father square in the eye.  


His father looked away and emphasized something about “serious consequences” to Hopper again. Steve blinked. He thought that only he got speeches about that special. After seeing Jonathan take on Lonnie and that talk they had, he was starting to think that the other boy was a pretty good influence on his life. His father raged, and a smaller, primal part of him flinched. The part of him that remembered whacking the Demogorgon with a nail bat seethed sulkily at the disrespect his father was heaping on Chief Hopper.  


“Mom, what’s going to happen now with the house gone?” he finally asked, tired of listening to his father rage and his mother’s moody silence. “Are you building a new one?” Up to this point he hadn’t thought there’d be any alternative, and he was startled at what he had taken for granted as a thread of unease settled in his stomach.  


She gave him a bored look, “Well, we're going to take you with us to Denmark. The project there will still go forward and your father and I are eying a delightful little condo we found just outside Copenhagen…”  


Steve tuned that out as his mother droned on. Shit. He didn’t want to go to Denmark. What was he going to do there? Eat sausage and walk around in green lederhosen? Did they even play basketball or baseball there?  


How would he live being cooped up with his parents fighting over every little thing again knowing those things were on the loose in Hawkins, Indiana?  


His mother must have read the expression on his face as she scooped up her purse and stood. “Harold, dear.”  


His father swallowed the last word in his rant. “What, Tiffany?”  


“We’re going to miss the reservation at Enzo’s if we don’t get moving soon.”  


He gaped at her, before exploding again. “Our house blew up and you’re worried about our _reservation at Enzo’s?_ ” Steve’s father erupted. Steve flinched, but raised an eyebrow at the exchange as he took a swig of the sugary mess he made of coffee. He promptly gagged at the taste.  


“The house can’t be saved. Like you always say, you have to let go of failures to keep moving on.” These was a pointed edge to her tone as she bore a hole in Steve’s father with her eyes. Well shit, was Steve going to be saved by his parents’ usual marital tension? He could hope. “Come on Steve, if your father needs more time to bother Chief Hopper - _who was kind enough to take you in for us like he was one of his own_ \- then you and I can talk about what’s going to happen with you now while we hold the table for his _important business._ ”  


Hopper’s mustache twitched as he and Steve made eye contact. He raised an eyebrow. _This how they usual are, kid?_  


Steve nodded as his mother snapped her fingers. “Where did you park your BMW?” He ditched the coffee, with a “see ya pops” as his father spluttered in their wake.  


_“Pops?”_  


Under his breath, Hopper muttered, “that’s what makes him upset?”

The moment the waiter took her order for wine and the cheese platter, Steve’s mother turned to pin him with an intense look. However, her amber eyes a bit warmer than their usual flinty suspicious look. “So, I heard you have a new girlfriend. She like the Pullman’s daughter then? What was it…Sophie?” Steve raised his glass to his lips taking a gulp to wet his suddenly dry throat and buy himself time. While his father raged about the failures in Steve's life at large, his mother was much more observant and precise. She used to be warm, as if indulging in his life. Then, after his father’s affairs, she had become distant, dissecting Steve’s life like a jeweler checking for flaws in the expectations of her once-immaculate life.  


“Yeah, mom. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler?”  


She to think for a moment. “...Ted Wheeler’s daughter? Well, you certainly could have done worse.”  


A spike of something annoyed and angry fizzled in Steve as he sighed. “She’s nice, like actually a nice person, mom. Sophie wasn’t.” Even he knew that, not that his mother listened, pleased with the arrangement as she was.  


His mother hummed and hawed. “Is that so? She must be if you’re being so…gallant with her reputation.”  


Steve knew better than to give his mother more ammunition. Instead he caught a chunk of ice in his next sip and crunched on it like he was eight years old and bored out of his mind again. He gathered that, apparently, doing so still annoyed her as she winced and fiddled with her soup spoon.  


Ignoring it like she did with anything she found too distasteful to be beneath her attention she changed the topic. “You didn’t seem all that thrilled with the idea of coming to Denmark with us.”  


Steve gave her a look. “Yeah, no mom. I’m halfway through junior year and next year’s senior year! You really going to take me away from Tommy and C -” his breath caught and his mother froze. “Carol,” he grated out at last. His mother sat with pursed lips, only giving him wide-eyed looks until the server came with divine intervention, bearing gouda and a bottle of Chardonnay.  


After awkwardly nibbling at the appetizer in silence, Steve’s mother tried again. “I understand, that you had a, uh, difficult, year, Steve. What with everything the past week.” She didn’t usually flounder with words like this, at a genuine loss for what to say instead of what barb might get her what she wanted. “And what with Charles…well uhm.” Steve felt a glower settle over him at the thought of Carol’s father. His parents had taken the impending lawsuit rather well for all that they were shocked by the complete 180 in their former family friend’s behavior. His mother took one look at his face and sighed. “So what is it that you want Steve? Your father’s work is taking us overseas more and more. Like I said, we were already looking at a place in Europe. Are you sure you want to stay here alone, with _just_ Tommy now?”  


The accusation that he didn’t have any other friends stung. Acquaintances, sure. A long time ago, there had been all the kids his mother carefully curated as acceptable to the clout the Harrington’s wealth could call to heel in Hawkins, Indiana. It was just as long ago that Steve realized out of them all, Carol and Tommy had been the only ones who understood Steve and he them.  


But it wasn’t like that anymore.

 **Saturday November 19th**

“I don’t like this Tiffany, not a bit!”  


“You don’t have to, his mind’s made up.”  


“He’s seventeen years old, he doesn’t know any better! He’ll just have friends over and – ow!”  


Steve’s mother retracted her elbow from where she gouged it her husband’s side. “Since it seems that you forgot, those friends are the ones who helped get him out when they realized something was wrong.”  


“So that drugged up has-been of a cop says,” Steve’s father muttered.  


His wife promptly ignored that outburst. “We need to respect his choice,” she reiterated for the umpteenth time that morning.  


“You’re just coddling him. He’s going to be spoiled,” his father grumbled, also retreading old ground.  


Steve wanted to sink into seat as his parents discussed his dismal future. They never cared to hide away such conversations before. It seemed surviving the destruction of the house wasn’t any reason to change that.  


“I can’t believe we’re going to be shelling out for an apartment here on top of everything else,” his father complained, miserly as ever for all that he didn’t pay attention to the family’s personal accounts. Those fell under Steve’s mother’s purview. Or rather, he had, grudgingly, handed over the bank key to them, giving her full reign after the second affair.  


“Oh Harold, what’s it going to cost? Another two grand? Don’t tell me we can’t afford it after _that!_ ” she waved a hand dismissively. Steve blinked. That sounded like a lot more than anything had ever cost, aside from the bimmer. It wasn’t like his father bothered to tell him the price tag for even that though. “His school’s here, his friends are here, and Hopper promised to check in on him for us so we don’t even have to worry about a housekeeper.”  


“You honestly think he can take care of himself, even with the police chief checking in?”  


Finally, Steve slid down the leather upholstery, suppressing a fresh sigh. At least his mom was on board. His dad could complain all he wanted, but the fact that they were on the way to the real estate office now meant that, once again, his father conceded to his mother setting down the law.  


Actually, the thought of his own place without his parent’s rules and their ghosts with the art and fancy decorations hanging over him was surprisingly tantalizing. It was a kind of freedom that, for all his family’s wealth, he hadn’t envisioned before. The thought of a place where he, Nancy, Jonathan, and Barb could just hang out…there was something incredibly cozy about that and getting away from everything that happened at his parent’s house.  


As they pulled into the realtor’s parking lot, Steve sat up straight. His parents, still arguing, aside, he was feeling more enthusiastic about the prospect than he had the day before.

“You sure you don’t want a place with a pool? You were such a good swimmer,” his mother remarked, a bit mournfully.  


Steve shuddered at the chill running through him at the thought. Let his mother think it was the winter cold in the empty apartment they were about to leave. His father and the agent were already out the door discussing something about mortgages and contracts. Apparently, his father would rather just buy out the apartment rather than paying rent.  


Still, this place was as good as any; a decent-sized main room with kitchen and a single bedroom and bathroom. From the expression on his parent’s faces, it was clear they thought it little more than a hovel. But it wasn’t like Steve was going to be buying art pieces and ornaments that they were never around to enjoy. Let them furnish their new apartment in Denmark. He haphazardly managed to negotiate with his father on getting a bigger allowance per month since the apartment was a fraction of the price of the places they had considering otherwise. It was a little bit shocking to see how much weirder his parents were about prices and prestige since his father’s business took off.  


This place wasn’t that far from downtown, so shops and restaurants were close. Also, the agent made sure to only pick from the nicer parts of town with the police station not that far away too. It surprised Steve how much of a difference knowing that Hopper and Flo would be nearby and it cinched the deal for him.  


That and the fact that there was no pool.  


“Actually, it’s fine mom.”  


His mother raised a brow. “You’re sure about this? We have options Steve dear. You don’t have to just…ahem, settle on the first place you find. I’m sure there are other options that are just as,” she looked around. The apartment wasn’t particularly old or new, just plain. “…nice,” she amended.  


“It’s just until I graduate,” he mumbled.  


His mother looked around, to him, then just sighed and nodded. “Ok, Steve. It’s your decision.” There was clearly a warning implied in that, like his mother was saying “no takebacksies,” but Steve brushed it off. It wasn’t like he really got anything out of his parents’ wealth before anyways, aside from the party, alcohol, and the BMW. Now not even they sounded appealing as his thoughts scurried away from flower-faced monsters.

**Sunday November 20th**

His father dropped them off at the main strip in town after lunch, announcing that he had business to wrap up with the company office in town before they flew out again that night.  


His mother took one look at Melvald’s before blinking. “I forgot what this town was like.” Her voice was so saturated with disdain, Steve didn’t know what to say when he stopped to look back at her. “Denmark is so much more quaint with the little cafes and restaurants. There’s so much more…history! And then Irma! What a delightful grocery store. The store here, uhm, what was it again?”  


“Bradley’s,” Steve answered as he held the door open.  


“Ugh. It has nothing on Irma’s. Cheese and wine from France, fresh food from the countryside…” she sighed wistfully.  


Steve shrugged as she passed by, lost in thought. It was rather what he expected of her these days.  


Inside, Steve took two steps in and stopped. At the counter, checking out for the black police officer that had helped them, was Joyce. She was all dressed in her vest, looking bright-eyed as she joked with the other man and waved him off.  


Then her eyes caught on him. “Steve!”  


He waved, a genuine smile on his face at her delight as she hurried out from behind the counter to greet them. “Hey Joyce!”  


“It’s good to see you! I still haven’t had a chance to thank you for keeping an on Jonathan and everything with Will!” she patted his side. “You should come by sometime, there’ll always be a place for you in my home and, well, I don’t like to brag, but I do a _very nice_ baked rotini.”  


“It’s nothing Joyce, I owe you a lot too,” Steve grinned, eyes flicking back to where he had picked out the bat and to the counter. He wondered if they had replaced the shotgun there.  


His mother made an odd sound and Joyce turned, “Oh but where are my manners! Mrs. Harrington! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around town!”  


For once, his mother seemed at a complete loss for words. “Uhm, well, yes…the housekeeper...”  


“I really have to say, you did an excellent job raising your son here,” Joyce patted Steve, “good, dependable boy. My son Jonathan hasn’t had a friend like him in, well, gosh…forever.” Steve’s thoughts immediately jumped to when he beat-up Jonathan before everything went down and chuckled nervously at how genuine Joyce seemed about every word she said.  


After a moment, his mother exclaimed, “Hasn’t he?” in a bit of a strangled tone.  


Uh oh.  


Joyce continued to beam at them, “Of course, and if there’s anything you need, just bring it to me.” She raised a hand to cup her mouth, adding slyly, “I’ll put it on my employer’s discount. You’re practically family after all this,” she winked.  


His mother took a stuttering breath and Steve hopped into action. “Thanks Joyce, I’ll take you up on that, but my mom…uhm.”  


“We’re in a bit of a rush, what with our flight out tonight from Indy…” his mother had apparently recovered and was inching away as she spoke.  


Joyce’s grin faltered a little, before she nodded and gave Steve a warm smile. “Of course, you just let me know if you folks need anything.”

Once they ducked into the home care aisle, his mother shuddered, “Since when you let _that woman_ get so brazen with you?”  


Steve stopped short of taking a closer look at the pot he was about to pick up. “Wait, what? What do you mean by that?” He frowned.  


“I thought you knew better than associating with guttersnipe like that woman and her boys.” She spit out like it was disgusting just referencing that.  


“Mom.” He said it with all the tone of “what the fuck.” “Did you not hear anything about what happened last week?”  


His mother sniffed, “Only that she lost track of her son. Again. What a shameful display.”  


“Will Byers was kidnapped!” Steve hissed.  


“By who? What I heard, she just _miraculously_ found him, walking into the hospital with the boy half dead.” She shook her head. “I’ve heard stories about what happens when it comes to that with unwanted children. I thought you wiser than that, Steve.”  


Caught off guard and unable to talk about the Demogorgon, Steve mentally flailed until the implication in those words left him breathless. “Mom. No. No, just…no! Joyce would never hurt Will!”  


“It’s in the family, you heard what they said about that deadbeat father.” She gave him a weird look, “And since when do you know her boys by name?”  


Steve took a breath and turned away. “Just, you know what? Forget it mom. Let’s just drop it.” After a moment, she began walking again – back the way they came. “Mom? Wait up!”  


“Thank you, uhm…Joyce. You have a good day,” his mother strolled back out the door without a look back.  


“You too Mrs. Harrington!” Joyce waved, nonplussed, but genial all the same.  


“Sorry, Joyce,” Steve apologized as he hurried to catch up.  


“Anytime, sweetheart!” she called back kindly. “By the way, are you doing anything on Thanksgiving? We should catch up!” He waved back.  


Outside the door, he caught up to his mother walking down the street purposefully. When he finally did, without looking, back she said, “We’ll have nothing to do with that woman, or her family, you hear me? I’ll have Jill, oh, your father’s new secretary, bring in a catalogue and we’ll order everything you need.” The way she said that didn’t brook any argument and Steve scowled, shoulders hunching.  


“Mom…”  


“Steve, remember what I said about the people you spend your time with. Remember that well,” she warned as she walked up to a payphone and slid the door shut to get the final word in.  


Steve frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. Fine, his mother could be weird about it if that was what she wanted. At the end of the first day, neither she nor his father even went through the non-disclosure statement Hopper pushed into his father’s hands. All they had done was look at the check the government was going to sign for them and the papers were signed without a moment’s hesitation.  


“Hey, Steve. Oh, hi Nancy!” he pantomimed to himself. “Did you have a good weekend? Oh sure did. What happened? My parents came back in town! And wouldn’t you know? My dad’s an asshole like always and my mom’s still a bitch who, _apparently,_ thinks Joyce Byers is the scum of the earth, you’re using me to climb the ladder, and Jon’s white trash. How was your weekend Nancy?” Steve paced around. He kicked a stone nearby before sighing again and falling into a crouch, running hands through his hair. “Mom, really? The fuck.” Why did she always have to be like this?


End file.
